


Leggings Pt. II

by queenhomeslice



Series: Leggings [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bisexual Noctis Lucis Caelum, Clothing Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom!Noctis, Dom/sub Play, Health Kink, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Porn With Plot, Pre-Canon, Promptis - Freeform, Running Kink, Sub!Prompto, TeasingPrompto, dorky boyfriends, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Sequel to Leggings! After Noctis realizes that Prompto does his almost-daily run in sinfully tight compression leggings, he’s more caught up in his Feelings about his blond friend than almost anything else in his life. And then Prompto participates in a half-marathon and gets semi-social media famous, and Noctis loses his literal shit. (Or, queenhomeslice can’t let this idea die, I’m so fucking sorry)(Honestly this started out with so much more plot but uh, I don't know, just humor me)





	Leggings Pt. II

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum (Promptis) 
> 
> Time frame: Just after high school, pre-game canon 
> 
> (There was a plot at one point but Idk where it went)

It’d been two weeks since that afternoon at the Citadel when Noctis saw Prompto jogging in compression leggings and they’d showered together and seen each other naked for the first time. Since then, Noctis’ post-high school graduation life had been filled with increasing reports from a nagging Ignis, more intense training from a brutal Gladiolus, and very little time to spending fucking a perfect Prompto. Sure, they’d made time to steal short dates and quickies, but Noctis hadn’t been able to catch him in the leggings again, and it made him noticeably irritable and frustrated beyond belief. However, he was doing his best to channel this energy into training and attending the never-ending trade negotiations with his father and the rest of the council, and it seemed to be working, because no one except his Retainer and Shield noticed that anything was wrong. 

Prompto, on the other hand, had wells of patience that the prince could only dream of and he absolutely  _thrived_  on sending Noctis full-body shots of himself post-run, or of himself half-hard at work at the affluent photography store where he was now practically working full-time since graduating, and Noctis would call him instead of texting back and do equal parts screaming in anger and lustful begging as Prompto made him ejaculate just from a picture and dirty phone sex.

 Prompto would shiver in anticipation every time Noctis would threaten him when he had gotten himself off, saying how much he was going to punish him for being such a godsdamned cock tease, and Prompto would laugh, and say, “It’s gonna have to wait buddy, I have work tomorrow,” and Noctis would growl and practically whimper and Prompto changed the subject and made him talk about his day instead to try and soothe the pain of distance. 

Yeah. The last two weeks had been hell, with probably three dates and four blowjobs in all that time. To a couple of hormone-fueled guys, it was an eternity. 

But then Noctis got a text in the middle of  _another_  meeting, which about the growing tension with Niflheim or whatever, he honestly didn’t care, unless the topic was related to Lunafreya. His feelings for her and Prompto were different, and therefore could coexist. Noctis realized some time ago that he was eventually going to have to marry a woman in order to produce an heir. He liked girls enough to be turned on by a really attractive one, so no worries. It was his kingly duty and all that, his father had explained with a knowing smirk. His gate swung both ways, big deal? Noctis figured that he could just keep Prompto close in some high-level Crownsguard or advisor position and still fuck him on the regular. It wouldn’t be like having a mistress, right? No chance of a bastard child mucking up the Lucii line and causing scandal...

His attention went back to his vibrating phone and he hesitated.  _I fucking swear to the Astrals, Prom, if you’re sending me_ another  _nude selfie in the middle of a meeting, I am going to kill you, hit you with a Phoenix Down, and kill you again._ Noctis steeled himself and looked at the message. Thankfully, there was no image attached, just an all caps “D U D E” from the contact labeled “Dork.”

Noctis quickly and quietly replied. “Yeah?”

 _Ping._ “THERE’S GONNA BE A HALF-MARATHON"

Noctis raised an eyebrow and typed. “Where? Here in Insomnia?”

 _Ping._ “YEAH DUDE HAVE YOU NOT HEARD IT’S POSTED ON FLYERS ALL OVER MY NEIGHBORHOOD”

“Do you have to do all-caps? And no, I mean, I guess I haven’t paid attention.”

 _Ping._ “I’M SO FUCKING EXCITED. I’VE NEVER DONE A MARATHON BEFORE. I’M GONNA DO IT. I’M GONNA TRAIN AND GET MY TIME DOWN AND I’M GONNA PLACE, YOU JUST WATCH.”

 _Aaaaaand_ now the Prince’s thoughts drifted back to the thought of Prompto running, and running in leggings, and how he looked in them, and then how he looked with them off, and he had to take a drink of water from the chilled glass in front of him to cool the heat that was both rising to his cheeks and shooting down between his legs. But, actually, Noctis was genuinely excited for his friend. He liked seeing Prompto so passionate about his hobbies, whether running or photography or arcade first-person shooters—he was really good at those, and Noctis had half a mind to give him a real gun and put him in training with Cor—and the prince decided that he’d do whatever he could to help Prompto. He smiled and replied, “No dude, that’s so great, of course you’ll place. You’re like the fastest guy I know. You did track, remember? You went to nationals and all. Showed those Tenebrae losers who was boss. Lol”

 _Ping._ “Haha, I totally did, right? But I can get better! I’m good at endurance like I can run a long time w/o getting winded but I gotta get faster! #zoomzoombitches”

Noctis snorted and stifled a laugh, looking up embarrassed at his father and other advisors and council members around the large wooden table. “Uh, sorry. Ignis, uh. Sent me a funny picture. Sorry.” 

His father smiled. “We’re clearly boring you, aren’t we, son?”

“No I, uh. This is great. Niflheim...and borders. Been talking with Ignis about this for weeks,” he said unconvincingly. Which was true, it’s just that he hadn’t paid much attention. The reports that his chamberlain kept piling up in his downtown apartment would’ve been much better with a centerfold of a certain lean, lanky blond. In compression leggings, sitting sinfully low on his hips, hand sneaking beneath the waistband to... _dammit._  

His father smirked and turned, addressing the gathered talking heads again and mercifully leaving Noctis alone to his cell phone. The prince was sure he’d get an earful later but right now his thoughts were, for the first time in his life, preoccupied with  _running._

The next day was Saturday, and praise the Six that everyone left him alone on that day. Noctis woke up at his usual noon to several texts from Ignis and his father about stuff that was, frankly, inconsequential. It was the message from Prompto that he cared about. Lazily opening one eye, he glared at the too-bright screen. 

“Wakey wakey Princess! Arcade 2day? Photog shop closed today for boss’s daughter’s wedding or w/e so I’m totes free. Or games @ ur place or a movie? : )” 

Noctis smirked. Prompto had this weird habit of switching from full sentences to shorthand when he was in a hurry or seriously preoccupied. He looked at the timestamp of the message.  _8:30 am_  “Fucking Ifrit,” Noctis cursed.  “Who the fuck wakes up on a Saturday at 8:30 in the morning?” He shut his eyes again and a jolt of pain shot through his head; his eyes were so caked with hard, crusty sleep that it hurt. He picked at his vision until it was clear and opened his eyes again, still groggy with sleep but not missing his usual morning wood.  _Fuck, Prompto...wish you were here..._  And then he realized that there was no reason why his lover couldn’t be at his apartment. He was just across town, not far at all. Noctis fiddled with his phone again. “Hey, sorry, am up now. Arcade sounds ok. Lunch after at my place? We can get take-out skewers or something.” He smiled at the immediate indication of typing on the opposite end. 

 _Ping._ “No worries dude, started my training today! Ran like, a billion miles. Shaved like 30 seconds off my time on my usual route, so that’s a start!”

Noctis smiled warmly at his phone. “Ur dedication is top notch.”  _Send._ Then, “You still out, or? I mean can you come over?”

 _Ping._  “Buddy I thought you’d never ask! I’m still out and about cuz I had a kale smoothie this morning and just snacked on a protein bar, so I’m good till after the arcade. And about coming over...”

The message cut off as there was a loud knock on the apartment door and Noctis practically warped out of his bedroom to the long entry way. He unsealed the magicked locks (his father’s, and Ignis’, insistence on having supernatural security on the Crown Prince’s solo living quarters), turned the manual deadbolt, and flung open the door. 

There he was, breathless and red-faced, his breath showing in the cooling fall weather, hair back in a headband with a popular athletic brand logo on it, fitness tracker on his left wrist, white athletic tape on the right, black moisture-wicking t-shirt, black compression  _leggings_ , white socks and worn-out sneakers. 

He was drop-dead gorgeous and Noctis quietly moaned right there in front of him and the open door and all of downtown Insomnia. 

Prompto chuckled. “Man, you’re in it that bad, huh? Do you have a health kick because your diet and exercise routine is so horrendous? Or is it just me?”

Noctis snorted and folded his arms, all too aware of his growing erection. “You’re so damn cocky.”

“Says the guy who gets off on my post-run selfies and dirty talk on the phone.”

“The last two weeks have been hell, Prom.”

“Hey, you’re the king-in-training. You gotta do all this stuff.”

“I don’t wanna do that stuff. I wanna do you.”

Prompto laughed. “Dude, you’re too much. Let me in, huh? I’m beat and it’s getting colder. I’m gonna have to start running in a jacket.” He moved past Noctis to step inside. 

The prince closed the door, taking immense pleasure at giving the blond’s backside a once-over. He also took in the sight of Prompto’s pale physique in stark contrast to his all-black ensemble. He sighed contentedly. 

Prompto took off his shoes and brought his phone out of a slim zippered pocket on the side of his thigh. “Got a charger? I’ve been out for hours and I’m almost dead.”

“Uh, yeah. In the bedroom.” Noctis kept staring, all the blood in his body pooled to one spot. Prompto took off his headband and threw it on his shoes, not missing the situation in his best friend’s pants.

“You got a sword in there, buddy, or you just happy to see me?”

Noctis groaned a half-laugh. “You’re so fucking corny, dude.”

“Yeah but you love me.” Finger guns. 

“I'm the prince, I have to love everybody.”

Prompto feigned hurt and grabbed his heart. “Oh, a royal insult! Those are rare. The Crown Prince of Snark, everyone.” And he got that  _glint_  in his eye and smiled that  _grin_  and Noctis came undone, sarcasm immediately forgotten. 

“Yeah you know why? Because you’ve put me through endless teasing with very little relief from it. I should, like, throw you in the royal dungeons.”

Prompto snorted and burst out into full laughter. “Dude, what year is it? You don’t have royal dungeons, just like, a big concrete jailhouse. I’ve run by there. Those inmates get sunlight, three hots, and a cot, believe me. Pretty sure I even saw one of ‘em with a cell phone playing King’s Knight.”

“Prompto.” Noctis pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. “You’re missing my point.”

“The point is that you’re shit at dirty-talking and teasing.” Prompto kept grinning as Noctis let his hand fall away and his face untwisted itself. He was blushing now. “Damn I could keep this up all day. It’s just so  _fun_  to see you flustered, Noct.” He stepped closer. “And look at me, still in my running leggings you love so much. You gonna do anything about it, big boy? You gonna punish me for being such a tease when you’re so busy? C’mon.” Prompto put one hand on Noctis’ waist and grabbed the outline of his cock with the other. Prompto stared into Noctis’ eyes and fucking  _dared_  him, like he  _wanted_  it. 

Noctis let out a sound that was music to Prompto’s ears, and he nearly exploded right there. But as he fought to regain vision and the ability to stand, he made up his mind. Prompto was usually in control, teasing, egging and edging him on, and not that he was complaining, because something was so refreshing about being told what to do for a change instead of everyone else asking “How high?” when he said “Jump!,” but Noctis wanted to wield power in front of Prompto, even if just once. Prompto wanted punishment? Who was he to say no to his best friend? 

Prompto continued to palm him through his pajama pants until he felt Noctis’ hand around his throat, thumb putting slight pressure on his Adam’s apple, and his own hand stopped its teasing. His blue eyes went wide and he gasped. 

“Yeah. Yeah Prom, I’m gonna punish you for teasing me. For wearing all this indecent clothing for all of fucking Insomnia to see instead of just  _me._  You’re  _mine._ What right do all these plebs have looking at the property of royalty? Disgusting.” Noctis’ voice was low and husky and aroused, and tinged with some of that princely authority that was usually buried deep. It never showed in his relationship with Prompto because it never needed to, but if Prompto wanted to play dirty, well. He reasoned that he could indulge him a little. 

Prompto started to rasp out what might’ve been words until Noctis put a little more pressure on him. He thrust his hips forward, closing the space between their groins, and this time it was Prompto who whimpered, eyes watering slightly.  _Holy shit_ , he had never been this turned on in his life, and that was hard to do, because Noctis had been turning him on since he was twelve years old and buying gossip magazines for 2 gil a piece just to see pictures of the raven-haired royal. 

Noctis smirked, feeling in control and powerful and on top now, putting his over-confident boyfriend in his place for once. “You gonna be a good boy, Prom? You gonna take your punishment like a champ? You gonna be sorry for teasing your prince?” He released the pressure but still kept his hand on the flushed, freckled neck. 

Prompto nodded and licked his lips. He stared into Noctis’ eyes. “F-fucking hell, Noct. Have your way with me.” 

Noctis’ breath hitched in his throat at Prompto’s request. The pleading look in his eyes caused the prince’s heart to literally hurt and skip a beat. He steeled himself. No going back now. He was into this role play, and clearly, so was Prompto. With swift action, he spun his best friend around and grabbed his wrists together, pinning them behind Prompto, and shoved him forward and to the right, into his bedroom, releasing him with a thrust, making him fall face-first on the giant king bed, almost-dead cell phone falling from his hand onto the floor. 

Prompto moaned and didn’t move. How much had he dreamed of this, even when he and Noct first got together? But it was so easy for him to joke and tease, and stoic cool-guy Noctis just let him, and so that became their roles. Prompto was sure that Noctis didn’t know how much he actually turned him on, and wielding his whole “prince persona”--except it wasn’t actually a persona, Prom had to remind himself; he was  _actually_  fucking royalty, the future king of Lucis, and sometimes it made his head spin—which never got Noctis his way in any other capacity (“My turn on the console, Prom” “No” “I’m the Prince” “Tough shit buddy”) was dripping with such eroticism that Prompto forgot how to breathe. 

He heard the rustling of clothes being discarded and turned to look, because damn if he didn’t like looking at Noctis Lucis Caelum, but he heard a low growl. 

“No. Close your eyes. Bad boys don’t get to see. You wanted to be punished? You’re getting it.”

Prompto gave a choked-out cry as his cock jumped, restricted by his leggings. Then he felt his shirt being roughly grabbed and inched up, and he went to move to help Noctis get it off, but was met with a smack on his ass. “Don’t move,” the prince said firmly and quietly. And Prompto moaned, and laid limp and let Noctis take the shirt off of him, lifting his arms and head until it was off and on the floor. 

Noctis drug his fingernails lightly down Prompto’s lean, sculpted, freckled back. Then he did it again, more roughly, not enough to draw blood but enough to leave red streaks. And then on the red streaks he left gentle kisses, and went on like that for several more rounds, scratching and kissing, until Prompto was wobbly-kneed and shaking beneath him. He pushed his cock to Prompto’s ass, which was still clothed in the offending leggings, and laid himself entirely on top of him, mouth next to a pale ear. He nibbled it. 

Prompto moaned again. “Noct...” And was met with another spanking. 

“Don’t move,” he said again, and stood. 

Prompto heard drawers being opened, bottle caps being flipped, wrappers being torn. His eyes widened and his breathing became ragged. The most they had done so far, after the day at the Citadel in the shower, was finger each other. But unbeknownst to Noctis, Prompto had placed a rush order on a silicone dildo and had been preparing himself for whenever they decided to really go all the way. Which, if Noct was doing what Prompto imagined he was doing, was going to happen just about now. 

After Noctis had lubed up his cock and put the condom on, he forcefully grabbed the waistband of Prompto’s leggings and tugged them down to his ankles. He heard Prompto gasp as his cock sprung free of restrictions, and Noctis reared back his hand and it connected with his ass again, though this time much harder, and seeing the red on the delicate, freckled, pale skin set something loose in him.  _He's mine._  

Prompto cried out over being spanked again, and bare, and his cock twitched in heavy need. “Noct,” he moaned. 

“You’ve been so bad, Prom.” Noctis poured some lube on his fingers and circled Prompto’s hole a few times before slipping his finger in. 

Prompto moaned again, loudly, breath ragged as Noctis finger-fucked him, hitting his prostate after just a minute or two. He arched instinctively and thrust backward, trying to meet the rhythm with his hips. 

 _Slap._  “No. You don’t move. You don’t do anything, you hear me? You lie there and take this,” Noctis growled. 

Prompto cried out what vaguely sounded like a “Yes, Your Highness,” but it was lost in gasps of pleasure as Noctis added a second finger inside of him. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to be an active participant in what was literally his dream come true. 

After a few more minutes, Noctis knew he couldn’t take the sight of his best friend face-down, ass-out over the bed anymore. He  _had_  to get inside of him. To  _own_ him. He withdrew his fingers, earning him a disappointed grunt. And with no warning, Noctis positioned himself behind Prompto, and slid his cock inside of him. 

All pretense of decorum and obedience were lost, now. Prompto jolted up at the sudden intrusion and began to cry as Noct began to move and adjust himself to his tightness. “Fuck, Noctis! Fucking...fuck me!”

Noctis groaned in pleasure as he grabbed Prompto’s hips and shifted him around and up, finally finding a comfortable position. He brought himself almost all the way out, and slammed back into him, fingers gripping the blond’s hips so hard he thought he might break his bones if he tried hard enough. And he brought himself out again, and back in, the rough repetition threatening to make him come too early. “Fuck, Prompto, you’re such a slut for your prince, aren’t you?” Noctis growled, smirking as he did so.  _Why did it take me so long to get into this, again?_

Prompto whined. “Fuck yessss, Noct, I’m--ah! I’m yours, I belong to—ah!”

“Who do you belong to?” Noctis shouted, slapping his ass again as he fucked him. 

“Fuck, you! I belong to you, Noctis...Lucis...Caelum, Crown Prince..of Lucis...fuck!” Prompto was white-knuckling the sheets as he held on for sanity amidst the onslaught of pleasure. 

“How long have you been in love with me, you little slut? How long have you craved this royal dick inside of you?” Noctis spat on his back. 

“Gods, Noctis!” 

Noctis brought one hand up and gripped a fistful of blond hair and yanked upward, earning him another moan of approval. “Your prince has asked you a question.”

“F-fuck! I was twelve...when I bought my first magazine with your picture...on it...one of those stupid...gossip rags...but the pictures they took of you...I couldn’t help myself, I touched myself to your pictures every day, moaned your name, imagined it was your hand around my cock. You...ah! You are just so gorgeous, Noctis...you’ve owned me...for so long...” Prompto began to legitimately get caught up in his feelings as he rode out waves of pleasure from Noctis fucking him. “I don’t...I don’t deserve you...”

Noctis said nothing. This new revelation was overwhelming to him. He choked back a sob and pulled out. “Get on the bed, on your back.”

Prompto scrambled to take the runner’s leggings off his ankles and scoot up on the unmade bed, onto the pillows that were heavy with Noctis’ sweat and deodorant and cologne. He almost came from the smells alone. His cock was aching, hard, and leaking from not being touched during their foreplay in the hallway and this whole dominatrix scenario. But he restrained. He wasn’t going to touch himself until Noctis said so. 

The prince followed Prompto up onto the bed, moving on his knees until he was over him again. He grabbed his legs, wrapped them around his hips, and lifted his ass and slid his cock into his best friend once more. 

Prompto cried out again as Noctis hit every pleasure nerve over and over, from this new angle, and he knew he was dangerously close to coming, without ever having touched himself. 

Noctis slowed his pace to an agonizingly gentle speed, and leaned down and kissed Prompto full on his red, chapped lips. “Prom,” he whispered. “Was what you said true? About the magazines. When you were younger.”

“Well, well yeah. I...I mean...” Prompto blushed and brought one arm over his face to hide his sudden embarrassment. He’d only told him because he asked; he never meant to reveal that naughty tidbit about himself. 

“Hhhhmmm.” Noctis went still and sighed with contentment. “You’ve done very well, Prompto. You’ve pleased your prince.”

Prompto lifted his hand and went to make a motion before Noctis’ nose flared in recognition; he reached out a hand to the wrist that was still wrapped in white tape. “I swear to the Astrals, Prompto Argentum, if you make a finger gun at me and  _wink_  while my cock is in your ass, I’m never having sex with you again.”

Prompto broke into a grin that consumed his whole face and he guffawed, shaking even Noctis, who was still inside of him. “Sorry, sorry, I just...I love you, Noct.” He dropped his arm, threat of corny hand motions gone. “But we both know you’re not going to get rid of me.” He winked anyway.

Noctis looked at his best friend and smiled. “You want to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Prompto bit his lip. “Yes, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, Prince Noctis. Let me touch myself. Let me come.”

Noctis sucked in a breath as he began to rock back into Prompto again, not as rough as before but definitely with the same urgent need. He was close and all this teasing, from the both of them, was undoing him at the core. He nodded breathlessly. “Touch yourself. Your liege demands it.”

Prompto licked his palm and wrapped his hand around himself and choked out a sob,  _fuck_ , he was too sensitive from being denied. He wouldn’t last two minutes at this rate. 

Noctis looked down at the beautiful sight in front of him, Prompto’s face flushed, his mouth slightly open, moaning  _his_  name as he stroked his red-hot dick. He felt his own release building. “Fuck, fuck, Prom, I’m not going to last. You’re such a good fucking lay. Fucking slut.”

Prompto whimpered. “I’m your slut, Noctis. Only yours. Fucking, ah, fucking tattoo me with your name, mark me, fuck! Noctis!” And he came with a hard shudder, milky white spilling onto his stomach as he bucked his hips and continued to stroke himself through his orgasm. 

Hearing Prompto scream his name, along with a request to permanently ink him as royal Lucii property, was too much. Noctis grabbed Prompto’s hips hard and moaned as he released into him, thighs finally giving out as he gave a last few lazy stokes, and pulled out of him, flipping on his back and making an effort to control his breathing. 

Prompto gulped and swallowed. “Gods, Noct. That was, ah. Fuck. Buddy. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

Noctis chuckled sleepily. “Yeah, neither did I.” He rolled onto his side. “Was that fun for you?”

Prompto practically bounced up and on top of him, “Are you kidding! That was, wow. It’s like it was my birthday, only it’s not. You, uh. You really got into it. You gonna do that more often?”

Noctis smiled. “Only when you ask me to. Or when I feel like it. Not gonna lie, that took a lot out of me.” He laid his head back. “How in the fuck do you always have so much energy?”

“Unlike some people, I make myself stay active.”

“You stay active because you have self-esteem problems and you won’t let yourself have a godsdamned candy bar every now and then.” Noctis glared at him. 

“Hey, hey! This is not ‘attack Prompto’s hobbies’ time! And for your information, I did have a candy bar recently.”

“When.”

“Last week, remember, when we went to the arcade late at night after your training.”

“Prompto. That was a fun-size candy bar you found on top of that FPS machine, and you like, drank ten bottles of water and jogged for two miles on your treadmill once we got back to your place. To make up for it.”

Prompto puffed out his cheeks and pouted. “Oooookay, maybe you have a point. But I’ll have a candy bar after I train for this marathon, dude. You gonna help me? Stand by with a timer at the end of my route and be my motivation?”

“I’m not already your motivation?”

“With the way you act around my stupid running leggings, it’s more like I’m  _your_ motivation, bro.” He winked. And shaped his hands into finger guns and mockingly shot them at the prince. 

“Gods!” Noctis whined. “Why the fuck does someone so hot have to be such a dumbass?”

Prompto laughed. “Oh, that’s not what you were saying earlier,  _my Prince._ ”

Noctis hit him in the face with a stray pillow. “Let’s just get cleaned up and go out already, you dork.”

Prompto threw the pillow on the floor and laughed as he followed Noctis into the bathroom. 

The day of the half marathon finally came, and of course Noctis wasn’t allowed to just sneak out to the sidelines and watch Prompto run the thirteen-mile route around Insomnia’s city limits.  _Of course_  his father had to make a big deal about it because it was  _Prompto_ , his  _special friend,_  and had a whole royal tent and entourage prepared, which meant that Ignis and Gladio, among others, were there, chaperoning him; which meant that Noctis couldn’t pull Prompto aside once his feet crossed over the finish line and fuck him in the back of his sports car while he was still wearing the leggings. And he was angry about that. 

He’d heard reports of over a thousand citizens participating in this half-marathon, and the news coverage had been on since 6 am, according to Ignis. Noctis had specifically commissioned a drone to follow Prompto through the whole thing, and it was tied to an app on his phone so he could watch his best friend—and his legs, in the leggings—for the whole thirteen miles. 

The sprawling royal tent was about 500 feet from the finish line, rigged up with space heaters and fresh food and Crownsguard and Kingsglaive alike. Gladio was sitting in a camping chair, reading, a backpack full of books next to him. Ignis was helping the chefs grill hamburgers, sleeves rolled up as he got his hands dirty with raw meat. A flat-screen tv had been set up, with the channel tuned into arial coverage and live commentary on the race. He knew Prompto’s number: 3234. He had managed to sneak a minute with him before Prom had to meet with the other runners at the starting line. They whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears, and kissed, and then he was off, and Noctis had called out a corny line of his own: “I hate to see you go, but damn I love to watch you leave!” And Prompto had turned back mid-jog, winked, and shot him a finger gun. And Noctis had to leave and go get a full bottle of water from one of the sideline tents.

Noctis sat in a camping chair of his own, now, watching his drone that was hovering low over the part of the crowd where Prompto was. He was all lean and limber, jumping up and down, stretching, rubbing his stomach which was full of some sort of pasta, he was sure of it, because he’d told him a few weeks ago, “Gotta start carbing up for this,” and Noctis had never eat someone eat so many Cup Noodles as Gladio in his entire life. 

And then on the news they announced the arrival of the officials, and he heard a voice on the loudspeakers, “On your mark, get ready, go!” and there was a gunshot, followed by a cannon shot, and the runners all started off. He watched as Prompto went from a focused runner’s lunge into a flash of long limbs and black clothes and blonde hair. He’d started out in the back of the group, which didn’t look like it was composed of a thousand people, but he didn’t really know or care. He vaguely wondered when this would be over, surely Prom could beat this in less than 45 minutes if he kept up his 3-minute-mile record, which is what he’d been consistently clocking in for more than a week. 

But Prompto had still been worried that he could actually place, because he was such a hobbyist and didn’t have the money to train with a professional. He ate and took tips from and wore what he read on runner’s forums or social media groups online. Noctis didn’t see why it mattered that he was so fast, but then again, Prompto’s anxiety tended to get the best of him, so maybe this was something he had to prove to himself. 

“Noct, are you hungry?” Ignis’ voice cut through his musings. He turned from his phone and the view of the top of Prom’s stuck-up hair and was met with a steaming hot burger. As usual, Ignis had snuck a tomato and a piece of lettuce on it. 

Noctis made a face as he took the plate, disassembled the burger, and dug into it, limp veggies forgotten. 

Ignis sighed. “I thought maybe Prompto would’ve rubbed off on you by now. You need to eat your vegetables.”

Gladio snickered. “Nah, he just likes to watch Blondie eat them.”

Noctis felt his face flush. “That’s not...they’re just gross, okay? I’ve tried one of Prom’s smoothies he’s always raving about. I nearly gagged.”

“Bet that’s not all you gag on when you’re with him,” the Shield said under his breath. 

Ignis actually snorted. 

“Gladio!” roared Noctis, face really red now, and not from the cool winter air. 

Gladio did nothing but laugh and return to his book. 

Noctis continued to eat his burger in silence, casually handing the plate to Ignis when he was done. With a sigh, his Retainer took it and threw it away, tossing the offending dressings on the ground for some lucky forest animal. 

The rest of the time was relatively uneventful, with the exception of Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis occasionally shouting encouragements at the TV, and Noctis trying not to get aroused as he watched the footage from the drone that would’ve bored anyone else to death, but he was watching Prompto run, studying his form and his grace, and it was definitely the most interesting thing in the world. 

Prompto was near the front of the crowd, but not at the very front, not even in the top ten—which were the only places that counted, first to tenth place—and Noctis began to get worried as he switched his gaze over to the TV news coverage of the race, which showed how close all those athletes were to the finish line. Noctis looked up and could see them, now, approaching the tent, approaching the finish line. He sighed. He knew that Prom would be disappointed, but he was still so proud of him, so proud of his best friend for doing something so hard and physical and taxing, and he started wondering about all the things he could do to make him feel better: go to the arcade with him every day, buy him a hundred new pairs of leggings, buy him that fancy new camera that’d just come out, with all the attachments, take him shopping at the trendy boutiques in his neighborhood that all he could do was run past and window shop in during his daydreams. He’d do all that and more if it meant that Prompto wouldn’t cry for not placing in his first half-marathon. 

And then. 

And then, as he watched the crowd approach the royal tent, there was a flash of freckles and blond and black, and Prompto shot out from the upper middle and out to the front, and beyond, leaving at least a 50-foot gap between him and the very confused guy that had, until three seconds ago, been safely in first. 

Noctis watched the determined and calculated breaths on Prompto’s face and he inched closer and closer, the others clearly forgotten. Noctis jumped up and, without thinking, began to run on the sidelines, screaming at him. 

“You got this, Prompto! You can do this! You fucking win this! You’re a fucking beast! You’re my fucking hero! You got this, bro!” He was screaming and crying and he saw Prompto grin, give him a side eye, and wink as he bolted over the finish line, now wrapped in checkered ribbon, the former front-runners trailing behind him a good three or four seconds. Noctis, a little out of breath after the short dash he’d made to keep up with him, ran up to Prompto, who was yards past the line now, walking around to cool off, shaking hands and clasping shoulders with some people he seemed familiar with. When Noctis approached him, the crowd parted with a gasp, and there were hasty bows and whispers and none-too-subtle cell phone pictures, but Noctis didn’t care, he was staring only at his best friend, who was bent over, panting, trying to cool down from his crazy, winning burst of speed. 

Noctis put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey buddy.”

Prompto rose. “Noct!” His face was flushed and all teeth, and he was crying tears, still trying to catch his breath. “I fucking did it, dude!” 

Noctis smiled. “Yeah, yeah. You did.” And he didn’t care, let this picture go into the gossip columns, and let Ignis yell at him for lack of propriety, but he grabbed Prompto into a big bear hug, and buried his face in his shoulder, and Prompto laughed and squeezed back, and Noctis let the commotion of the crowd and the booming voices of the louspeakers fade away to the sound of Prompto’s pounding heart. 

The next Saturday, Noctis was woken up by a banging on his door. Groggily, he stumbled out of his room and looked through the peephole. Prompto. He quickly waved the magic away from the locks and turned the manual one and opened the door. 

Prompto was holding two magazines,  _Weekly Runner’s Digest_ and  _Athletica Now._ He was doing nothing but holding each of them in a hand, arms shoved all the way out in front, and the prince had to blink a few times in order to focus on what was actually happening. 

Prompto was posed in a lunge on the cover of  _Athletica,_ all in expensive, branded workout gear. New brand of leggings, logo-branded long sleeve shirt, new shoes; pale, freckled profile in sharp contrast to the purple cover background. He was the featured headline of the magazine: “Former Self-Taught Track Runner from Insomnia High Winner of First-Ever Insomnia Half-Marathon! Read The Exclusive Interview! Prompto Argentum on Photography, Video Games, and Being Best Friends with Royalty!” 

The cover of  _Digest_  was radically different; Noctis inhaled sharply at the front picture and reminded himself to personally reward the photographer of this one. Prompto was seated on a big white box against a green background, no shirt, no socks or shoes, just the runner’s leggings, forearms resting on his thighs, black wristband on his right wrist, and he was staring directly at the camera, giving an easy smile which Noctis knew made other people stare lustfully at his friend. The headline read “How He Did It: New Running Sensation Prompto Argentum Details His Self-Taught Routine that Brought Him from Pudgy Youth to High School Track Star and Beyond.” 

“Prompto!” Noctis exclaimed after taking in the covers and headlines and realizing that  _his_  best friend, his  _lover,_  was on the cover of  _two_ magazines. 

Prompto brought his hands down. “They just came out today! I had finished my run and was at the pharmacy buying some supplements and some old lady pointed at me and said, ‘You’re on the cover of that magazine, ain’tcha sonny?’ and I had completely forgotten about it! So I ran over to the magazines and there they were, and the cashier let me have them for free!” 

Noctis rubbed his eyes and tried to remember if Prompto had told him that two magazines wanted pictures and interviews with him. “Wow, dude. This is like. Seriously cool. I’m so fucking proud of you!”

Prompto kind of jumped up and down and clapped his hands like a kid just learning they were getting an extra scoop of ice cream. “It’s literally the coolest thing that’s ever happened in my life!” He squeezed in the door as Noctis let him in, shutting it behind him; and joined Prompto on his couch. Noctis slumped into the cozy cushions and laid his head on Prompto’s shoulder. “Oh, so fucking me isn’t cool enough?” He smirked. 

Prompto whined. “That’s not fair and you know it. You know what I mean. Like, have you seen my PixtaGram profile this week? I’m fucking verified, dude! I have like, half a million followers now! And do you know how much I won for that race? Like eight thousand gil. I know that’s pocket change to you, but buddy, I can actually not worry about rent or food for like, six months! And I’ve got all these endorsement deals now, dude. You’re gonna be seeing this face plastered on ads everywhere. Do you know how much free shit I’ve gotten in the past week? I’m never going to wear out a pair of tennis shoes again.”

Noctis listened to Prompto babble on as he threatened to fall asleep again, but one thing stuck in his brain. “Wait, Prom. You’re going to...like. Model. Athletic gear.”

“Uh-huh.”

Noctis sat up and Prompto was grinning that  _grin_  and his blue eyes were  _sparkling_ and Noctis felt his cheeks get hot. “Let me see that magazine again.”

“Which one?”

“The green one.” 

Prompto handed the curled-up magazine over and Noctis stared at the cover, breath getting shallower, staring at the professional photo of his friend. On a magazine. In nothing but those fucking leggings. Suddenly it was hard to breath. 

Prompto smirked and leaned in low to his ear. “Who’s gonna be touching themselves to a magazine now, huh?”


End file.
